Aftershock
by DragonDi
Summary: The betrayal of one friend and the deaths of the three others leave Remus Lupin to deal with Aurors, reporters, and his own emotions. A sort of prequel to 'Carnival of Dark and Dangerous Creatures.'
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **J.K Rowling and her minions own Harry Potter--I don't. If I did, Remus Lupin would never have died. And while I want to kick her in the shins for killing off Remus, I do thank Ms Rowling for her forbearance in letting me play with her literary characters.

**Author's Note: **Love and thanks of all kinds to badmum for her support, beta-skills and Brit-picking. Love and adoration to remuslives23 for reading my stuff over and over until she's sick of it--and for always making me reach higher and dig deeper and write better!

* * *

Wind-borne pellets of icy rain stung his face when he turned the corner and he clutched at the hood of his cloak, trying to shield himself from the worst of it.

He cursed inwardly for the twentieth time since he'd left his flat that he'd had to come out in this miserable weather, but, even more so that he'd agreed to this meeting in the first place. What did he hope to accomplish? Nothing, really. Everything that could be said had been said. The worst had already been done.

The golden light spilling from the pub's large window was like a beacon of comfort, but the young man saw no one else as he hurried toward the building.

As he reached for the door handle, the first memory rose from the shallow grave in which he'd hastily buried it:

"_You know we won't be able to do this as often once you're married, Prongs."_

"_Merlin, Padfoot! You make it sound as if I'm dying!"_

"_It's about as fun as death. Lily will make you stay home all the time..."_

"_Moony, talk some bloody sense into him!"_

As soon as he had agreed to meet here, he had known it was a bad idea, but he hadn't been able to find Moody again to reschedule. He'd had a good dose of Firewhiskey before he'd left the flat, trying to stiffen his spine and bolster his courage—and to try to prevent those ghosts from rising.

"Should have had the entire bloody bottle," he mumbled as he pushed the door open.

The pub was more crowded than he had expected. The wall of heat, sound, and the various scents assailed him as he closed the door behind him and he winced slightly, remembering that he and his friends had once been part of this:

"_Come on, Moony! You're not going to let a _Ravenclaw_ outdrink you, are you?"_

"_Pa'foot, I don' know 'f I c'n—"_

"_Yes, you can! One more! That's it—just one more!"_

"_C'mon, Remus! It's ten Galleons, for Merlin's sake!"_

"_Listen to Wormtail. Just one more..."_

He pushed his hood back and, after running his fingers quickly through his prematurely greying hair, started to unfasten the clasp of his cloak.

It was then he heard the first whisper, coming from a table to his left: "That's Lupin."

"Haven't seen him here since —"

"—Ministry said he had nothing to do with it..."

He spotted Moody at a table at the far end of the room and groaned. Of course Moody would choose to have his back to the wall and no one behind him. But did it have to be _that_ table?

The whispers followed him through the room like a breeze flitting through leaves:

"— Black, but the Ministry didn't —"

"— He was a good friend of theirs, and –"

"— found Pettigrew first —"

He could have sworn he saw Peter out of the corner of his eye, but he resisted the urge to look. Every time he looked to find one of his friends, they were never there.

Moody's magical eye was whirling madly in its socket and Remus found himself slightly nauseated by its gyrations. He focused on the man's other eye as he sat down and asked, "What's so important that you had to see me tonight?"

The Auror snorted. "Full moon's coming on, is it?"

"I'm frozen through, I'm tired, and I've just lost my job," Remus snarled. "Not every bad mood of mine revolves around the bloody damned moon."

Moody picked up his bottle of Butterbeer and tipped it in salute toward Remus. "My apologies, Lupin."

"_Sorry, Moony. I didn't think he was going to try to hex me."_

"_You were flirting with his fiancée, Sirius! What else could you expect?"_

Remus shook his head. "Doesn't matter." He took a deep breath and tried again. "Why did you need to see me?"

Moody suddenly glared at someone over Remus' left shoulder and the younger man glanced back. One of the pub's patrons ducked his head hurriedly, but not before Remus saw the suspicion in the man's eyes.

He cursed under his breath and Moody raised an eyebrow at his choice of words. "I thought you lot were regulars here," the grizzled man said.

"We were." The Auror was smart, Remus thought. Let him figure it out.

Moody sipped thoughtfully at his Butterbeer and his magical eye stilled as he looked Remus over appraisingly. "Do you get this reaction everywhere you go?"

Remus shrugged. His fingers traced an entangled 'J' and 'L' that had been carved into the side of the table.

The older man harrumphed and banged the bottle down on the table. "Guilt by association. Bastards don't stop to think that you could have been dead instead of Pettigrew."

It was all he could do to keep from reaching across the table and strangling Moody. Instead, he hunched his shoulders and tightly entwined his fingers until he feared his knuckles would break.

"They'll get over it, you know," Moody said, surprising Remus with a gruffness that was unusually gentle. "They'll forget."

"Forget that my best friends were James Potter and Peter Pettigrew? And that my other best friend, Sirius Black, killed them both? And that I was suspected to be in collusion with him?" There was a hint of hysteria clinging to Remus' dry chuckle. "Yes, I can see where they'd forget that."

"_Oh, gods. I can't believe Regulus is dead."_

"_Here, Padfoot. Drink this."_

"_I should have tried harder. I should have —"_

"_You can't second-guess yourself, Sirius."_

"_But he was my brother! How will I ever forget that I let him down?"_

"_Keep drinking, Padfoot. Keep drinking..."_

Moody looked uncomfortable at the younger man's sudden reverie, which made Remus want to laugh even harder. The Auror was never uncomfortable, never unsure of himself. That he seemed to be now, at this moment, was laughable.

"Do you want to go somewhere else?" the older man asked. "The Leaky Cauldron, maybe?"

"Gods, it's worse there than it is here," Remus said, the volume of his voice rising slightly. "They just see a murderer's accomplice, not another victim."

He was satisfied to see that the people at the two tables on either side of them seemed to freeze with shock.

"Someplace Muggle?" Moody suggested.

"_Don't you know any Muggle drinking games, Moony?"_

"_Sorry, Padfoot. My drinking seems to be limited to be wherever you and James happen to drag me. And whatever drinking we've done in Muggle bars has never involved any games."_

"_Then we've been severely limiting you."_

"_I'll drink to that."_

"_You'll drink to anything."_

"_So, you've made me into a drunken lush."_

"_One of my greatest accomplishments..."_

"Lupin?"

He shook his head to clear it. "Can we just discuss why I'm here?"

Moody reached into his pocket and pushed a piece of parchment across the table.

Remus stared at it for a long minute and then at the Auror. "What is it?"

"Well, it's not going to bite you."

Remus picked it up and began to unfold it. Familiar handwriting made him stop and drop the parchment as if it had burned his fingers. Uncertainty and fear set fire to his lungs, stealing the breath from his body and searing his heart.

"Recognise the writing, do you?"

Remus dropped his hands into his lap, refusing to reach for the parchment. "What does he want with me?"

"Read it and find out."

"Does he offer an explanation? Does he _apologise_?" Remus demanded, his anger rising.

"Lupin, calm yourself."

Remus slapped his hand onto the parchment and shoved it viciously back toward the Auror. "I'm not reading it. If you want me to know what it says, tell me."

Moody's hand went back into his pocket and pulled out a key on a simple metal ring. It dangled from his fingers, catching the light with a nearly hypnotising effect. Remus stared at it with trepidation. He knew that key.

"_Where the hell's my key?"_

"_Isn't it in your pocket?"_

"_No! Where did it go?"_

"_Gods, Padfoot, how did you lose your key?"_

"_It must have been when you hit me with that damned Levicorpus!"_

"_Which you deserved..."_

"His things need to be packed up."

"And he expects _me_ to do it?"

Moody motioned to the letter. "He explains."

"He explains? How in the bloody hell can he possibly explain?" Not only was the volume of his voice rising, so was the pitch.

"Just read the bloody letter, Lupin."

It was a wonder that the parchment didn't rip as Remus opened it and forced himself to take in the words written in that angular, sharp script that he knew as well as his own.

"_Remus: I don't expect you to understand if only because I don't fully understand it myself. Things aren't what they seem, though. I made a horrible mistake in judgment and I don't blame you if you never forgive me. What's mine is now yours. Save the pictures for Harry, though. Sirius."_

Astonished, Remus read the missive through once more. He was starting through it a third time when he realised Moody was speaking to him.

"He also sent a letter to the Aurors saying that, while he knows his opinion means very little, you had nothing to do with anything that happened on that night."

Remus raised his eyes to meet the Auror's. "That was nothing that three days of interrogation couldn't settle."

Moody actually looked unhappy at the memory of the part that he himself had played in Remus' questioning. "No one knew what to think in those days following the Potters' deaths. You can't blame us for wanting to make sure that everyone who needed to be punished was found."

"Of course not." Remus' voice was silkily smooth and deceptively calm.

Moody's eyebrows lowered and he glared at the younger man. "You think I wanted to be there for that? You think I wanted to do that to you?"

"Yes!" Remus hissed. "Did you think I couldn't sense your anger and your suspicions before they died? Did you think I didn't feel how shocked you were when I said I didn't know what _he _was planning—even after you overdosed me with Veritaserum? Oh, yes, you most definitely wanted to break me down into little pieces to find out just how guilty I was. And don't bloody tell me you didn't." He took a deep breath and then snarled, "Are we done here?"

Moody blinked, caught off-guard by Remus' question. "I suppose we are," he said gruffly. He tossed the key so that it landed on the table in front of the younger man. "If you find anything that would help our case..."

"Does it matter? He's not getting a trial anyhow," Remus pointed out.

"We can't take a chance on some bloody lawyer getting him off on a technicality," Moody countered. "Would you want that?"

"_Why don't you want to tell us what you're doing?"_

"_I can't, James. Dumbledore made me promise to keep this to myself."_

"_Bugger Dumbledore. Padfoot and I are really worried about you."_

"_I'm fine."_

"_We're not going to have to try to break you out of Azkaban, are we?"_

Remus drew in a shuddering breath. "No." He regarded the key with loathing. "Isn't there anyone else to do this?"

"He asked for you. But if you want the Aurors to do it, we will."

A sense of unexpected indignation rose up within Remus. The thought of the Aurors—_bloody bastards_—pawing through Sirius' things, touching things that he'd — _the bloody bastard —_ treasured, touching gifts that the Marauders had given him when they had cared for one another...

"Fine. I'll do it," he snapped.

Moody seemed to hesitate for a moment before admitting, "The Aurors have already been through the flat a couple of times, looking for clues."

"And I don't suppose they thought to clean up, did they?"

"It's not _that_ bad, Lupin."

"_It's not that bad, Moony."_

"_We're losing. Y' know tha' we are."_

"_Humping Hippogriffs! How many has he had to drink?"_

"_Too damn many, obviously. Moony, where's your Gryffindor-ness?"_

"_Tha's not even a word, Pa'foot."_

"If you find anything, though, something that we missed, you'll let us know, right?"

Remus stood up and shoved the key in his pocket, and his eyes went to the black scorch mark in front of where Peter used to sit. "Another nail for his coffin," he mumbled.

"Another bar for his cell," Moody corrected. "Wait a minute, because I've got something else for you," he said, reaching into his pocket.

"What? A vial of silver nitrate?" Remus didn't bother to hide his bitterness or sarcasm anymore. There was too much anger and depression festering within him to bother with trying to be nice.

"No." Moody had apparently realised there was no point in calling him on his attitude or trying to ease him out of it. "I got this from the Minister today."

'This' was a small scroll with a wax seal embossed with the Minister's official stamp. Remus cocked his head slightly to the side as he looked at it, but made no attempt to take it from Moody's hand.

"What is it?"

"You know, Lupin, I'm not in the habit of reading other people's letters... Do you question the bloody owls that bring you your mail?"

"I don't get any letters from anyone anymore," Remus snapped, "seeing that all my former friends are either dead or in Azkaban."

The people sitting at the table to his left suddenly got up and scurried away.

Moody tossed the scroll down on the table. "It's your official pardon. The Minister thought he should make it clear that you have been cleared completely."

Fury rose from Remus' belly along with bile, burning his throat. "A pardon implies I've done something wrong and they're forgiving me," he protested loudly. "What about a bloody apology for the three days of hell that they put me through? What about an apology for the overdose of Veritaserum?" He leaned closer and extended his arms so that his sleeves slid up his wrists, revealing ropey, pink scars. "What about an apology for the silver?" he hissed.

"Damn it, Lupin!" Fire blazed in Moody's eyes.

"Keep your bloody pardon," Remus growled. "It's not going to change what I already know and it's sure as hell not going to change what everybody thinks they know about me."

He pivoted and walked out of the building, his long strides helping him to get out of the building before Moody could form a sentence to stop him.

The freezing rain was still falling and the shock of it made him gasp. The heat from the pub and his anger melted away almost instantly, leaving the depression and despondency that seemed to be the only thing left to him these days.

He began to walk in the direction of his flat, not bothering to pull the hood of his cloak over his head.

"_Where do you want to go now?"_

"_Padfoot, we've closed the pubs down. It's time to go home."_

"_But I'm not ready to go home yet!"_

"_Stop whining, Sirius."_

"_You're no fun, Moony. Prongs, where —"_

"_I've got a redhead at home waiting for me, Padfoot. I'm done."_

"_Gah! What has happened to you two? I expected Prongs' marriage to kill his sense of fun, but damn it, Moony, you're letting me down!"_

Remus halted and, suddenly weak-kneed, braced himself against the nearest building with a shaking hand. "You let me down, too, Sirius," he whispered into the darkness.

Only the sound of icy pellets skittering across the pavement answered him.

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**Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Won't you let me know if you did? (If you tell me you didn't, it'll only serve to depress me--and isn't there enough sadness in the world?)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **The characters in this story do not belong to me. Wish they did, though.  
**A/N: **Thanks to all of those who reviewed--and those who put it on alert, but didn't review. It does mean a lot. (Though it would be nice to know what you liked...)  
Eternal gratitude to remuslives23 and Bad Mum! Hugs to you ladies!

"_Move it, Moony!"_

"_Behind you!"_

"_Protego!"_

"_It's Black!"_

"_Widdle Siwius wants to pway!"_

"_Bellatrix!"_

"_Damn it, Sirius! Don't!"_

"_I'm going to bloody kill her this time! Crucio!"_

"_Padfoot! No!"_

"_Get down, you fools!"_

"_You have to mean it, Cousin Sirius! Like this! Crucio!"_

"_Moony!"_

He awoke, his hand automatically grasping for the wand that was usually tucked under his pillow, and felt a sense of panic when his fingers touched only cloth. It was a few heart-thumping seconds before he remembered deliberately placing his wand and the half-empty bottle of Muggle whiskey on the small table beside the bed.

"_Keep your wand with you at all times —"_

"_What about when I'm shagging some bird?"_

"_Black, if you're not going to take this seriously —"_

"_I am serious! How am I supposed to, you know, do what I need to do if I've got this stick in my hand?"_

"_Sirius, considering what I've seen, I think the bird might appreciate the length of the wand instead."_

"_James Potter!"_

"_Sorry, Lily, but it's true!"_

"_Are you lot done? I'm giving you advice on how to keep yourselves alive..."_

Remus had followed every bit of Moody's advice. Considering all the Auror had been through, it seemed quite logical that the man might actually know what he was talking about.

Even Sirius had followed Moody's 'rules'...

_No, don't think about Sirius._

Remus had spent enough sleepless nights tossing and turning to know when it was going to be useless to even try to doze through the last hour before the light would appear in the eastern window of his flat. Besides that, his hangover had made itself known.

He didn't have to get dressed; he'd slept in the pair of jeans and T-shirt he'd worn the day before. He might have even worn them the day before that one. He wasn't sure. There wasn't much point in changing into pyjamas or stripping down like others (_Sirius_) had when there was no one to see him or care what he slept in or how he slept or even where he slept... There wasn't much point in changing clothes altogether, really.

He took a potion to rid himself of most of his hangover and then went to the kitchen, where he sat hunched over a cup of tea, elbows on the table, long fingers gently rubbing his throbbing temples. Several nights of sparse rest and cheap liquor were starting to take their toll.

"_Prongs, you look like shit."_

"_Thanks so very much, Padfoot. And you look like a total wanker."_

"_Hey, I'm concerned."_

"_Is everything all right, Prongs?"_

"_See, Padfoot? THAT'S how you tell someone they look like shit in a polite manner. Thanks for asking, Moony. Harry's teething and had us up all last night..."_

A demanding hammering at his door made him jump out of his chair, knocking the thing over.

His fingers instinctively wrapped themselves around the wand on the table while he glanced around for avenues of escape. And then realisation set in.

_Death Eaters don't knock._

On the heels of that thought came the thought: _Aurors do. Sometimes._

He felt his heart clench, leaving him breathless. _I haven't done anything wrong. They've cleared me. _

The fact that he hadn't done anything hadn't kept them from returning at least twice a week since his interrogation, as if they were trying to catch him doing something illegal.

"Lupin! Open the damned door!"

Moody.

Remus swore and curled his lip in a snarl.

"I can see you, you know."

"_Do you suppose Moody uses that eye to spy on his neighbours?"_

"_Just the ones he thinks are Death Eaters..."_

"_Can he see through clothing? Do you think he can see what Maureen looks like underneath those robes?"_

"_Would you lot stop whispering to one another and pay attention?"_

"_Sorry."_

"_Yeah, sorry." _

Remus decided to make his feelings about this intrusion very clear. He offered a two-fingered salute at the door and then went into his bedroom where he threw himself down on the bed to wait.

The older man pounded on the door for another minute or two. Remus listened to the banging and the crescendo in the man's cursing before he finally slammed his bedroom door shut with a casual hand and muttered a silencing charm.

He was surprised that Moody waited as long as he did before breaking in. It was probably a good five minutes before the door flew open and the Auror stepped into the room.

"Get up out of that bed!" he ordered.

"For what reason?" Remus asked sneeringly. "Are you taking me down to the Ministry to question me again?"

Moody just stared grimly at him. "Maybe I should."

Remus stretched his arms out toward the older man. "Going for the silver cuffs again? Or are you going to trust me to go willingly?"

The Auror pressed his lips together tightly in disapproval.

"What?" Remus pressed, widening his eyes in mock innocence. "Not sure which option to choose? Can't really blame you. We werewolves are an untrustworthy lot."

"When's the last time you were out of this flat?" Moody demanded.

The younger man's eyebrows rose. "Do you just want the day? Or do you want the time, too? Because I —"

"I just wanted to see if you were aware of the fact that you haven't left this bloody hole in the wall since you met me down at that pub."

Remus involuntarily inhaled deeply, only now counting the hours and the number of nights he'd sequestered himself. _Has it been three days? Am I counting right? _The fact that Moody knew that, though, made him uneasy._ How does he know? Why does he care? _He shrugged. "If you know when I was out of here last, why are you asking me?"

"Because I'm trying to bloody figure out what I'm going to tell the bloody Healers at St. Mungo's when I have you bloody committed!" Moody shouted.

Remus' eyes widened again—in shock, this time—and he said, shakily, "What in the hell are you talking about?"

"Have you gone to deal with Black's things?"

"If you know I haven't been out of the flat, then you know I haven't gone to sort out his things."

Moody pointed a gnarled finger at him. "I gave you something to do —"

Furious now, Remus sprang to his feet. "I don't have to follow your bloody orders!" he growled. "In case, you missed it, the war's over and the Order has been disbanded. You can't tell me what to do!"

"I asked you if you'd do it and you accepted," the older man reminded him. "If you weren't intending to do something about it for a few weeks, you could have told me so."

"You didn't tell me I had a time limit!"

"Bloody Merlin on a stick—pig-headed bastard!" Moody snapped. "If the Potters could hear and see you now—"

"Don't you fucking _dare_ bring them into this!" Remus shouted. "They're not here now, are they? This is between you and me—over something stupid that I haven't had time to do yet!"

"You haven't had time to do it?" Moody repeated incredulously. "Well, why don't you fucking tell me what you've been doing with your precious time that you haven't been able to do what I've asked you to do?"

"I—" And suddenly Remus' head swam and he closed his eyes in preparation for the crash to the floor that he just knew was going to happen.

Strong hands grabbed him before he could fall and an arm and sturdy body offered enough support to keep him upright.

"Gods, boy! You can't weigh more than a piece of parchment! When's the last time you ate?"

Worry oozed through Remus' mind because he honestly couldn't remember when he had. "Had a sandwich last night," he said faintly. But then he wasn't sure if he'd finished it. He seemed to remember seeing a dog rooting around in the alley —and had he tossed the sandwich out to it or had he dreamed it all? He might have even dreamed the sandwich. He did remember the whiskey, though...

"Sit down." All Moody had to do was pivot them around and then pull his hands away.

Remus fell back onto the bed, though not without commenting weakly, "I thought you wanted me out of bed?"

"Stupid git." Without an explanation Moody walked out of the room.

Remus could have sworn he heard voices over the next few minutes, but was still too woozy to do anything about it. In fact, he drifted off to sleep, only to awaken when he heard a familiar voice say, "I should have done something weeks ago, Alastor."

"You can't take care of 'em all," Moody said gruffly.

Remus opened his eyes and saw bright blue eyes behind square lenses. "How are you feeling, Remus?"

"Fine, Professor." He started to sit up, suddenly aware of the state of his flat—and that the Headmaster of Hogwarts had waded through it all.

"No, lie still," Dumbledore told him. "I thought I'd bring you a little something, compliments of the house-elves at the school." He motioned to a tray precariously balanced on the bedside table. Steam curled up from the surface of a bowl and two fat slices of the elves' finest bread lay beside the bowl on a plate of their own.

"_Want some toast to go with your honey, Prongs?"_

"_You know how I like honey."_

"_And I thought Moony had the sweet tooth."_

"_Nothing sweet about his teeth." _

Remus' stomach ached and he wondered if it was because he was hungry or going to be sick.

Moody obviously knew what he was thinking. "Take a couple bites of the soup, but give your stomach a chance to decide if it's going to keep it or not."

And then he and Dumbledore started into a conversation about the latest Ministry fiasco involving the head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports. They seemed to deliberately ignore Remus to allow him to eat in peace.

The first few bites were tentative but the monster gnawing at Remus' stomach was somewhat appeased, so he started eating a little faster. He found himself surprised at how quickly he found the bottom of the bowl.

"Remus."

He let the spoon clatter back into the empty bowl and looked up inquiringly at Dumbledore. "Yes, sir?"

"Alastor informs me that you've lost your job at the scrivener's."

"Yes."

"How is the search going for a new job?"

Remus sighed. It seemed a bit ridiculous that the man was even asking this; he knew the answer already. "I haven't really been looking."

The older wizard folded his hands together and looked sternly at Remus over the lenses of his spectacles, but said nothing.

Remus had seen the man do this before—had been on the receiving end of it quite a few times— but it didn't make it any less uncomfortable. He squirmed slightly beneath the man's gaze and then looked over at Moody.

The Auror shook his head and shrugged. His message was clear: _You're on your own, boy._

"Remus, I hate to see you like this. You've suffered a terrible loss, yes, but you can't give up on yourself."

The Headmaster's voice was gentle, but it stabbed into Remus' chest all the same.

"I'm fine." He heard Moody draw a breath and, knowing the Auror was going to argue with him, hurried to say, "I'll be fine."

Dumbledore kept his eyes on Remus, who refused to meet his gaze. He didn't want the Headmaster to know how he doubted his own words. How could he possibly be fine? He'd lost James and Lily; he'd lost Peter; he'd lost Harry, even. And Sirius...

_Don't think about Sirius._

He scratched nervously at his temple. "I'll start looking for another job soon."

The two older men exchanged glances, frowning at his choice of words.

"That's the best you're going to get from him," Moody said with another casual lift of his shoulders.

"Is that true, Remus? Is that the best that I can expect from you? That you'll start looking for another job soon?"

Anger and bitterness welled up within the young man. What did it matter to these men what he did or didn't do? It barely mattered to them that he ate or had a place to sleep _before_... _Others_ had taken care of him. Before.

"_I can't accept this!"_

"_You can and you will, Remus."_

"_Lily, you can't... James..."_

"_James would have spent the money on Quidditch magazines or butterbeer. I happen to think filling your icebox is a much better way to get rid of a few Galleons."_

"_Lily..."_

"_Pay us back when you get your next paycheque."_

"_That might not be until November for all I know!"_

"_November is four months away, Remus. You'll have something before that."_

November. November was now gone and so was Lily...

He shoved the tray onto the bedside table, not caring that it was balanced quite perilously, and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

"Thank you for the food," he said, his words clipped and frostily polite. "Now, if you don't mind, I have some things I need to tend to."

He _Accio'_ed his shoes, ignoring Moody's mutter about having a few bottles of whiskey that needed tending.

"Remus —"

"I have to go to —" he sucked in a deep breath and steeled himself for the feel of a silver bullet in his heart, "—Sirius' flat and pack his things."

"Gods, Lupin, there's no —"

Remus instantly straightened and shot a look at Moody that should have had the older man falling lifeless to the floor. "It was an order, wasn't it?" He looked from one man to the other then smiled grimly. "And I always follow the orders I'm given."

On the way out, he slammed the front door as hard as he could.

**Yeah, it's a dark and moody story. (No pun intended.) Did you think the months following Oct. 31, 1981 would be full of sunshine and laughter? (The angsty side of me is cackling gleefully...)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **This is little more than a filler chapter--I know that.

**Disclaimer: **Not mine; please don't sue!

He stood outside the door for a long time, trying to stifle the memories that were trying to resurrect themselves. He didn't want to think about why he was here or how he was the only one left to do this. Unfortunately, that left him with nothing to do but to feel. And he sure as hell didn't like that.

"Oy! Who are you?" The gruff voice made Remus turn his head quickly to see who had spoken. "Oh, it's you."

The Muggle caretaker who took care of the flats in the building seemed to tense even more upon recognising Remus. "Hear your mate got himself in a bit of trouble."

Remus nodded once. "Just a bit."

"The police were here tearing through his flat a couple of times."

"So I heard."

"You the one who's gonna pack it up, then?"

Remus drew in a breath. "So I've been told."

"I've got a few boxes downstairs if you need them."

"That's very kind of you."

"Hey, who's getting that motorbike of his? She's a beauty—wouldn't mind making an offer on her myself."

"_Isn't she a beauty?"_

"_Sirius, what in the hell are you going to do with a motorcycle?"_

"_Ride it, Moony! After I make a few adjustments..."_

Remus closed his eyes and tried not to wince. He'd not given a thought to the motorcycle. He thought he remembered someone saying that Sirius had given it to Hagrid, but that didn't seem right, somehow. "I think it's promised to... someone else," Remus said hoarsely.

The Ministry would have a bloody fit if he sold that motorcycle to a Muggle. _Serve them right_, said a little voice in his head.

The man was staring at him so there was nothing else to do but unlock the door and push it open.

"I'll bring up some of those boxes —"

Remus nodded and stepped through the door and into the living room.

"_Only you, Padfoot, would paint your sitting room in Gryffindor colours..."_

The Aurors had not been gentle in their search, but it wasn't as bad as Remus had feared. Things had been taken from shelves and then replaced carelessly. Photos and pictures and posters that had been hanging from the walls when Remus had seen them last were piled haphazardly on the floor. The entire place still tingled with hints of magic that the Aurors used to track Dark magic items.

But, under it all, there was still a lingering trace of the aftershave that Sirius used and, when Remus closed his eyes and breathed deeply, he swore he could smell the coffee that Sirius brewed so strongly that a spoon would nearly stand upright in it.

More pressing, however, was a persistent, slightly expectant feel in the air, almost as if there were spirits whispering, _Is he coming back? When will the master return?_

"_Can you believe this? It's all mine!"_

"_A toast! To the king —"_

"_To the emperor —"_

"_To the lord and master —"_

"_Yes! I _am_ the lord and master! And you can be my house elves..."_

Remus headed for the kitchen but froze in the doorway from shock. Cabinet doors and drawers were open and every dish and cooking utensil had been piled on the counter. Bottles, cans, and boxes of food had been opened and then left on the table. The stench from his vantage point by the door was unbelievable.

"_Evanesco."_ A few simple flicks of his wand and the spoiled food disappeared. A couple of charms dispelled most of the odour.

"Not that bad," he scoffed, thinking of Moody's protestations.

Despite the cold November air, he opened the window in the kitchen to allow the fresh air to carry away the rest of the foulness and stood there, leaning on the windowsill and debating what to do next.

He wasn't ready to face Sirius' bedroom—the place where most of the traitor's clothes and personal things would be. So that left him the spare bedroom. He had stayed in that room several times: when he was too rat-arsed or too tired to Apparate to his own place, or when either he or Sirius didn't want to be alone. That had happened somewhat frequently for a while—after Caradoc had disappeared, after Benjy had been killed, after Marlene and her family had been massacred...

"_A' thisss rate, we'll all be dead by this time nex' year."_

"_Padfoot —"_

"_Well, 's true, innit? Bloody bastards keep gettin' s-s-stronger. 'S not righ', Moony! 'S not righ'!"_

"_C'mon, Padfoot. Let's get you to bed."_

The sheets and blankets had been ripped off the bed and then piled on top of it. There was a jagged line that ran the length of the mattress to show that the Aurors had ripped it open, diligently searching for evidence of Sirius' treachery and Darkness—and then had used a _Reparo_ on it.

Remus couldn't help the tight smile that slipped across his face. Did they think Sirius would take the time to hide Dark magic items inside a mattress? He shook his head, thinking that maybe the Aurors hadn't been completely wrong: a Dark _creature_ had slept in that bed, trying to hide from the increasingly devastating news of lives lost in a seemingly hopeless war.

His eyes slid over a book on a bedside table and then went back when his mind had registered what it was. His hand shook as he reached for it.

"_What's so good about that book, Moony?"_

"_Read it and find out."_

"_But this is why I keep you around—to read things for me and then tell me what they say."_

He opened the book and began to leaf through the pages. A loose sheet suddenly slipped out from about a third of the way from the back of the book and Remus slowly pulled it out, trying to remember what it could be.

"_Moony,  
How in the hell is one supposed to keep these names straight? Hope you don't mind I charmed it to make it easier to read."_

Remus looked a little closer at the pages. Every Japanese name in his James Clavell novel had been changed into an English name. 'Lord Toranaga' had become 'Lord Tony'; 'Mariko' had become 'Mary'. Before Remus could stop himself, he smiled.

Without knowing why, he turned the loose sheet over and caught his breath. In that familiar, sharp handwriting, a quote from the book was written: _"It's a saying they have, that a man has a false heart in his mouth for the world to see, another in his breast to show to his special friends and his family, and the real one, the true one, the secret one, which is never known to anyone except to himself alone, hidden only God knows where." _

Following this was a simple seven word question: _"Do you suppose this is true, Remus?"_

The book and the paper tumbled from his suddenly nerveless fingers.

He didn't want to think about what Sirius might have been implying. He didn't want to think that maybe Sirius was trying to warn Remus about his betrayal and the Potters' impending doom. He didn't want to think that maybe, just maybe, if he'd asked Sirius to return the book, he might have seen this note and read it and they might have discussed it and then everything that happened might not have happened...

"Oy!"

The abrupt shout startled him, causing him to blink rapidly a few times and then shake his head to clear it.

"Hey, you still here?"

He swallowed hard and cleared his throat. "Yes, I'm coming."

The caretaker was standing in the sitting room with several boxes in his arms. "Where d'you want me to put these?"

"Oh, uh..." Remus found himself rubbing the tense muscles in the back of this neck. "Anywhere. There's fine."

The man dropped them where he stood and the sound was like a gunshot, making Remus jump.

"You alright? You look a little peaky."

"Yeah, yeah. Fine." Remus couldn't bear to be standing in the crimson sitting room another moment. "I have to go. I can't—I have to—I forgot I have an appointment." He again cleared his throat. "Thanks again for the boxes."

"No trouble. Look, I don't want to rush you or anything, but there have been a lot of people eyeing this flat, waiting for me to tell them when it's going on the market. Any idea of when it'll be ready for sale?"

"_A toast to Uncle Alphard, the one who knew I'd need this place before I knew it!"_

"_To Uncle Alphard!"_

"_He was the only relative—outside of Andromeda—who I could stand. Poor sod. I hear my mother blasted his name from the Family Tree for this."_

"_If he left the money to you because he knew you were going to need your own place, I doubt he'd mind being blasted from the Tree."_

"_That's absolutely true, Moony. Of course, he also left me the money as a kick in the teeth to my parents."_

"_Doesn't matter why you got the money, Padfoot. It only matters that you have it."_

"_True, Prongs. Too true."_

The janitor was staring at him and he cursed himself for letting his thoughts stray. "I really don't know," he finally mumbled. "There are legalities and things and, honestly, I don't have the slightest idea who has the power to make those decisions."

The man grunted. "Well, then, if you find out, could you let me know first? My brother's been looking for a flat."

Remus just nodded and found himself hoping that Alastor Moody didn't want him to handle that as well.

***

"_Did you know what he was planning?"_

"_No! I told you —"_

"_How long was he in You-Know-Who's service?"_

"_I don't know. I didn't think he was at all."_

"_Don't you think you should have known?"_

"_I should have known, yes, but I didn't!"_

"_He's lying!"_

"_I'm not!"_

"_Give him more Veritaserum."_

"_We've already given him twice the usual dose."_

"_Bring out the silver."_

"_NO!"_

By the time he came to full consciousness, he was already flinging himself off the couch and stumbling toward the bathroom.

This wasn't the first time in the six weeks since his interrogation that he'd had these dreams. It wasn't the first time that he'd ended up in the bathroom, heaving the contents of his stomach into either the toilet or the sink.

As he took a drink of water to rinse out his mouth, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

"Shit," he muttered. He looked awful.

What did he expect, considering he'd been drinking more alcohol than eating actual food.

He left the bathroom and went into the kitchen, intending to make a cup of tea. As he waited for it to boil, he contemplated the contents of his cupboards and small fridge. There wasn't much. Even if he got a job today, he wouldn't get paid for a week or two. That meant he'd have to either go home and ask his parents for help or resort to stealing.

He sighed. Sometimes he wasn't sure which one was the worst option.

"_You're not serious, Moony."_

"_You're Sirius. I, however, meant exactly what I said."_

"_You don't have to be a thief —"_

"_This coming from the one who habitually found his way into Honeydukes at least twice a month."_

"_Moony, we'll help you out —"_

Remus slammed his mind shut and reached for the box of cereal. He pulled himself up onto the counter and ate a couple of handfuls of cereal straight from the box, deliberately concentrating on the words on the box.

There were only so many words on the box and only so many flakes inside, though, so in a very short time, he was sipping at a mug filled with hot tea and staring at the brick wall across from his kitchen window. Thin veins of ivy covered the wall but, with the lack of sun and fresh air, the tendrils were weak and the leaves a strange olive colour.

_They look like I feel_, Remus thought.

But now what? A quick glance at the clock told him it was too early for job-hunting. Involuntarily, his eyes went to a drawer beneath the counter where he'd been sitting. He didn't want to think about the key that was in there, but somehow his mind refused to let him forget its existence—and what he'd said he'd do.

Snarling ferociously, he strode across the room and yanked the drawer open. The innocent piece of metal lay among the other odds and ends that Remus had tossed carelessly in the drawer for safekeeping.

It was amazing how that key had the power to make his heart pound harder in his chest and clogged his throat with a lump that just could not be swallowed.

It had to be done. He might as well get on and finish the job. The last thing he wanted was for Moody to come back with his insinuations and accusations.

He picked up the key, clutching it tight in his fist.

"_Here's my key, just in case something happens tonight."_

"_Nothing's going to happen."_

"_I know. But in case it does, here's my key so you can get into my flat."_

"_Padfoot—"_

"_I know, I know. I'll shut up. But, just in case. You know?"_

"_I know."_

The sooner he got Sirius' things packed, the sooner he could get on with his life. Or so he told himself.


	4. Chapter 4

** Disclaimer:** I wish Remus had been mine. I would have taken better care of him. (How COULD you, Jo? Why would you kill him?)

Remus didn't see the caretaker as he made his way to Sirius' flat, which suited him just fine. He wasn't in the mood to speak to Alfred—or anyone else for that matter. All he wanted was to get into the flat, throw the Sirius' stuff in appropriate boxes and leave.

All the same, he hesitated before he pushed the door open, wishing that the deep breath he had just taken was filled with something more fortifying than oxygen. A hard bottle in the pocket of his long wool coat suddenly brushed against his thigh, reminding him that he had some liquid courage at hand when he needed it.

And he knew he would need it.

The boxes were still in the middle of the floor where Alfred had dropped them and Remus went straight over and picked one up. "Garbage," he muttered.

A second box was flipped over. "Charity shop."

He ground his teeth together as he whispered, "Harry," with the selection of a third box.

A sudden thought struck him and he picked up a fourth box. "Pawn shop. You owe me, Black."

* * *

In between their fourth and fifth years at Hogwarts, Remus and Sirius had seen a Muggle magician in a park doing simple tricks for the children who stood around him, oohing and aahing.

"_Where's his wand?"_

"_He doesn't have one. He's a Muggle." _

"_Then how in the hell—"_

"_It's all sleight of hand. He's using misdirection to—"_

"_Where'd the ball go?"_

"_It's in his other hand."_

"_How'd he do that without a wand?"_

"_Watch. He gets you to look at his right hand, but it's in his left. Watch."_

"_Sneaky bugger! Think I could do that?"_

There was a trick for everything, Sirius became fond of saying after that. The trick for packing up Sirius' things was for Remus to forget that the people in the photographs meant anything to him. He applied misdirection by telling himself he'd only been hired to clear out the flat. He juggled his emotions, tossing the smiles, the frowns, and the tears up and away from himself as soon as he felt them.

By the time he'd cleared off the shelves in the sitting room, checked the spare bedroom, and sorted through all the things that had once been arranged haphazardly around the walls, he was tired and emotionally drained.

Hoping the resulting numbness in his brain—and a few long pulls at the bottle of vodka that was now sitting on Black's desk—would be enough to prepare him for the task, he resolutely pushed the door open to Sirius' bedroom.

_It's just a room. It's just a bedroom._

But the clothes piled in the corner were undeniably familiar, and there was a unique muskiness in the air that shrieked, "Sirius!" to Remus' sense of smell.

He couldn't help it; he stumbled backward until his back hit the wall opposite the doorway. His weakened knees gave out and he fell into a slumped heap on the floor.

"I can't. I can't," he whimpered, feeling the tears behind his closed eyelids.

It wasn't _fair_! How could Moody expect this of him? How could _Sirius_? He hadn't even apologised! Was he at all sorry? Did he feel any sense of regret? How could he say that things weren't what they seemed? How could they not be exactly what they appeared to be? It seemed pretty clear to Remus: James and Lily were dead, Peter was dead, Harry was with Lily's horrible sister, Sirius was in prison, and Remus was left alone to deal with the pieces.

How in the hell could things be otherwise? What alternative universe was Sirius treading through that he could make that statement? What madness had overtaken him?

A horrible mistake in judgment, indeed.

"Fuck you, Sirius!" he whispered. "Fuck you, for what you've done to them and for what you've done to _me_!"

He slammed his fist against the wall, willing the wall to crumble, willing his bones to crack, if only so he'd feel something other than emotional agony that threatened to crush his lungs and make his heart implode. "Fuck you, Sirius!" he screamed.

But the wall didn't give, and if the bones did, he didn't notice because he was too caught up in the body-shaking sobs of mourning that had finally, after six weeks, decided to make their appearance.

* * *

_Raido. Ehwaz..._

He sat at a table in the Leaky Cauldron, drawing runes with the condensation puddled at the base of the bottle in front of him, trying to ignore the faint whispers coming from the table to his right.

"That's Lupin. He was a friend of the Potters..."

"Mannaz," he muttered, trying to drown out the woman's quiet voice.

"... Sirius Black. I heard the Aurors took him in for questioning, but —"

"Remus Lupin!"

He looked up quickly, feeling his head swim slightly as he did. The Firewhiskey made it impossible for him to concentrate on the face leaning over the table toward him at first, but then recognition set in. "Dedalus Diggle."

The man was smiling, but it wasn't as bright as usual. Instead, he seemed uncertain, almost wary. "How are you? Been getting along alright?"

"I'm well enough," Remus replied, sounding more than a little sulky, even to his own ears.

"—not guilty, but who knows for certain? If Black was able to hide his true nature—"

Diggle's eyes shifted to the other table and his ears, which stuck out comically from beneath his bright blue top hat, slowly blushed red. "Actually, it's a good thing that I ran into you today. I think I've got an Augurey living in the forest beside my house —"

"—never can tell who was a Death Eater —"

"—and I know you have a way with creatures," Diggle continued, his cheeks now flushing and his eyes darting to look at the gossipy witch at the table next to them. "I wondered if I could impose upon you to come and have a look-see."

Remus sighed. It wasn't as if he didn't have anything better to do. "When would you like me to stop by?"

"Tomorrow morning, maybe? I know it's short notice—"

"No, tomorrow is fine," Remus assured him.

The woman's voice droned on: "—would've gotten life in Azkaban, just like Black —"

Diggle adjusted his hat a little more firmly on his head. "Are you sure you're alright? I don't suppose it's been all that easy. And you look a little... tired."

Remus raised his bloodshot eyes to meet Diggle's. The large amounts of alcohol he'd consumed in the past two hours made him brutally honest when he said, "Don't worry, Dedalus. It only hurts when I breathe."

With that, he got up and walked out, sparing a withering glare for the mouthy witch who'd been talking about him.

It was dark already, even though it was only a little after five in the afternoon. The streets were jammed with people heading home from work, heading out to eat, heading into shops for Christmas gifts.

"_What do you think, Moony?"_

"_Prongs, is that a _snitch_?"_

"_Yes! It's one for Harry to chase around the house!"_

"_Does Lily know about this?"_

"_Why would you ask that?"_

"_You still have it in your possession and you're still talking about giving it to Harry."_

"_She'll be okay with it. I'll talk her around."_

"_You'll be sleeping on the couch for a week."_

He hunched his shoulders as he walked, as if to shield himself from the cheerful shop windows and the occasional sign that warned him that there were only so many days left to buy his necessary gifts.

_I wonder what happened to that snitch. _

Yes, there was doubt of it: Christmas was going to bring its own form of hell with it. There'd be no way around it. And he'd have to visit his parents for sure.

Guilt raced through him. His parents were good people and didn't deserve for him to ignore them as he did. But it was because they were good people that he did.

"_I wish I had your parents, Moony."_

"_You just want anybody's parents other than your own, Sirius."_

When they'd heard the news of the Potters' deaths, John Lupin had immediately come to London to find Remus. Unfortunately, the Aurors had found Remus first.

His father had been waiting in the Atrium when Dumbledore had finally managed to get Remus released. Mr Lupin had taken Remus back to the Lupin cottage, but after two days of being treated like he was going to break, Remus had left. He didn't want pity. He didn't want sympathy. He wanted... He wanted it never to have happened, actually. But as that didn't seem to be an option, he just wanted to go on as best he could. He couldn't do that with his mum fussing over him and his dad watching him worriedly.

They'd written him several times since then, and he'd told them he was fine, but he knew the moment they laid eyes upon him again, they'd know how badly he'd been lying to them. Then they'd try to get him to stay and he didn't have the excuse of a job to return to in London. He didn't need to have skills in Divination to tell him how his visit would end. He would end up hurting them. Firstly, because they'd see he was hurting and hadn't come home, and, secondly, because he'd have to fight with them to let him go again.

A man stumbled out of a door and into Remus.

"Look out!" Remus said gruffly.

"Sorry." The man turned and quickly walked away, his head bowed.

Had he been crying?

Remus looked at the shop from which the man had staggered and rubbed his chin with his forefinger. "Why the hell not?" he asked himself, retreating to an alley he'd just passed, already reaching into his pocket for one of two boxes that had been magically reduced in size.

A moment later, he emerged from the alley, a fairly large cardboard carton in his hands which he lugged into the pawn shop that had attracted his attention.

The man behind the counter was dressed in a suit and tie, which looked out of place in this world of abandoned knives, forsaken instruments, and mismatched silver patterns.

"Whatcha got?" he asked Remus in lieu of an actual greeting and nodding toward the box.

"Little of this, little of that," Remus grunted as he hoisted the carton up onto the counter. "Lost my job. Bloody inconvenient time, right before Christmas and all."

"Don't think you're going to get one penny more out of me just because it's Christmas," the man growled. "Always the same with you buggers."

"Wasn't thinking that at all," Remus lied.

He watched as the proprietor removed the items, sorting them into piles that made sense only to him.

"Is this silver?"

Remus looked at the cross dangling from the chain and nodded.

"_...But you're not religious, Padfoot."_

"_Considering how close that curse came to me last night, I'm beginning to think I should be."_

"Is this really signed by Johnny Rotten?"

"It is."

The man eyed him suspiciously. "You don't look like the punk type."

"I don't, do I?"

"_I've got to get this poster signed!"_

"_We'll never get close enough, Sirius!"_

"_Prongs, some help?"_

"_Damnit, you two! We can't be throwing spells around —"_

"_It was only one spell, Moony — Hey, Johnny, ya ol' bastard!"_

More gold chains found their way into a pile, as well as a pair of silver candlestick holders.

"_If anything happens to me, Moony, I want you to have these."_

"_And do what with them? Melt them down into bullets to kill myself? I'm not sure if I'll miss you that much, Padfoot."_

"_I nicked them from my mother. Sell them and keep the money. It will drive my mother into a frenzy and make me a happy man. What do the Muggles say? Save it for what kind of day? A rainy day? A snowy day?"_

"_Rainy day. Save it for a rainy day."_

"_Well, that's a bloody ridiculous saying, considering it's always raining in England."_

"Nice jacket."

Black leather creaked as the man twisted it around, looking for tears or scrapes.

"_Of course I need a leather jacket! It's practically a bloody requirement when you've got a motorcycle."_

"_I thought you weren't the sort to follow a stereotype."_

"_Fuck you, Moony."_

"_Isn't language like that also stereotypical?"_

"_Then, if you don't mind, oh lycanthropic one, please engage in copulation with yourself. Better?"_

"I'll give you one hundred pounds for the lot."

"The bloody hell you will!" Remus exclaimed. "That jacket is worth that alone!"

"Worth it to you, maybe."

"Worth it to anyone looking for a nice Christmas gift," Remus countered. "I want five hundred for the lot."

The man stared at him and then laughed. "Stupid bugger! There's no one in this city that would pay five hundred for this shite."

"It's not shite, and you know it. The candlesticks are worth one hundred on their own. Mr Rotten's signature might get you another fifty or seventy-five, in the right place."

"Two fifty."

Remus rolled his eyes. "Four seventy-five."

"Oh, now you're not even trying."

"And you are? Stop fucking around and give me a real figure here."

The man looked the things over carefully, and then sighed. "Alright, four hundred."

Remus stood motionless for a moment and then reached over and started stuffing the things back into the box.

"Hey, now! What in the hell are you doing?"

"Taking my business elsewhere," Remus said quietly.

"No, wait! We're still bargaining, ain't we? Bargaining's not done until I say 'final offer'. And did you hear me say 'final offer'? I didn't think so!"

"I told you to stop fucking around once. I'll not say it again. Give me your final price and let's be done."

The man stared at Remus for a long minute before he made his final offer.

* * *

Remus stood outside the shop, his fingers wrapped securely around the four hundred and forty pounds that now rested in his pocket. It was too bad he couldn't sell his memories to the pawnbroker as well, he thought. And then he smiled grimly.

His memories wouldn't even buy him a cup of coffee.

**Thanks to those who have reviewed and put this story on alert. I appreciate it greatly--certainly more than you know!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thanks again to the remarkable remuslives23 and the marvelous BadMum. Where would this story be without you two? :)**

**Disclaimer: I am not JKRowling. My birth certificate and bank account will prove that. I mean no harm by using Ms Rowling's wonderful characters and I am making no money from this.**

* * *

_"Werewolf!"_

_Screams followed the shout and Remus cringed._

"_Get him!"_

_Hands grabbed him and he was falling..._

He jerked himself awake and lay there rigidly, waiting for his galloping heart to slow. The only good thing about the dream was that it was the usual 'Help! Dangerous Dark creature!' sort, and not one of the more recent nightmarish kinds about Sirius.

The bottle beside the bed was empty. Actually, both of them were, so Remus got out and stumbled to the bathroom for a drink of water.

"_Nightmare, Moony?"_

"_Yeah."_

"_You okay?"_

"_Yeah. Go back to sleep, Peter."_

Peter's bed had been across from Remus' and he was the first one to notice—and the only one to care at first—that Remus had frequent nightmares. He was the first one to offer clumsy comfort by following Remus to the bathroom and leaning against the doorframe while Remus splashed cold water on his face to bring himself to full, peaceful wakefulness. Peter was the first one to suggest to the house-elves that Remus would benefit from a cup of chamomile tea before bed. After that, there was always a cup of hot, perfectly steeped tea on the table beside his bed each night for the first year or two until he was comfortable enough to forgo the crutch.

Remus reached into the medicine cabinet behind the mirror and pulled out a green bottle.

"_Remus, I think I know what's causing your headaches."_

"_Oh, gods, Peter, can't it wait until my head stops feeling like it's going to explode?"_

"_I think it's the valerian you've been taking to help you sleep. I think you've been taking too much of it..."_

"So, I'll get addicted to sleeping potions instead, Peter," Remus mumbled, measuring out a careful dosage of the liquid from the green bottle.

Remus briefly pressed the heels of his hands against his bleary eyes and the headache that had formed behind them and then knocked again at the large teak door.

"Yes? How is I helping you?"

He froze, wondering where the voice was coming from since there was no one there.

A slight clearing of the throat brought his gaze downward and he blinked at the house-elf that stood there. "Is there something you is wanting, sir?"

"Oh, yes. Sorry. I was looking for Mr Diggle."

"Master is at work." The house-elf's tone implied that Remus should be likewise occupied.

"He asked me to stop by and see if he had an Augurey nesting nearby." Remus tilted his head in the direction of the woods to the left, and instantly regretted it because the pain in his head shifted with the movement and seemed to pool in one violent red-hot lake.

The elf peered up at him, raising an eyebrow that seemed to question Remus' ability to handle an Augurey since he couldn't seem to handle the simple moving of his head.

"Master said you'd be by," he admitted in a sceptical tone.

"I'll just take a look, then?"

The house-elf nodded. "Master says to see him at the Leaky Cauldron at noon for lunch and payment."

Remus couldn't help but wince. Just what he wanted: to hear more gossip about himself today. He nodded, however, and stepped away from the door so the house-elf could dismiss him with a proper closing of the door.

As it was looking like cats and dogs were going to tumble from the sky at any minute, the Augurey was ridiculously easy to find. It was perched in a patch of thorny branches, letting everyone know that it could feel the impending precipitation.

"Gods, you're a big one, aren't you?" Remus muttered.

It stopped its cry and cocked its head so it could see him more clearly.

"_Come on, Moony, just let me see what you wrote!"_

"_You're not copying my essay."_

"_I'm not going to copy it! I'm just going to... use it. To help me with mine."_

"_How about if I just tell you what I know about Augureys, and you can write it based on that."_

"_Oh, right. Like I'm going to let you do that. You'll deliberately give me the wrong information!"_

"_Now, why ever would I do that, Sirius?"_

"_Because you're a sneaky bastard."_

The greenish-black bird watched as he enlarged a cage he'd bought that morning from a pawnshop. It had originally been meant for budgerigars and he hoped that enlarging it wouldn't stretch the metal bars so much that they would be brittle.

"Sorry, mate," he said quietly. "I'm going to have to Stun you."

The bird threw its head back and cried again.

"_Look, I'll tell you what I wrote. 'An Augurey is a harbinger of doom. If you hear its cry, you're doomed to die within the next forty-eight hours'."_

"_Really? I thought..."_

"_Sirius, why don't you just do this yourself?"_

"_Alright, fine. Keep talking."_

"_It is blue in colour and is the size of a parrot..."_

He snorted softly in amusement. That had been the only time Sirius had ever received a grade lower than an A on anything, and...

_Damn it, Lupin. Stop thinking about _him_._

It didn't take long to get the Augurey Stunned and in the cage, during which time, it started to rain. He then spent more time looking for a nest and younglings. It wasn't the right season for matings, but it wasn't usual for an Augurey to be so near the city, either. Finally satisfied that the bird was alone, he Disapparated to a forest he knew outside York. A quick spell revived the bird and sent it on its way, squawking at its ill-treatment and relocation.

Once he was sure the bird was going to be alright, he Disapparated to an alley near his flat. He left the cage next to some other rubbish in the alley, pulled the collar of his brown leather jacket up to keep the rain off his neck, realising it was a bit late for such an action, and walked up onto the main street.

He hadn't gotten too far when a blonde, curly-haired woman came out from a shop nearby and tugged at his sleeve. "Remus Lupin?"

He felt like the Augurey, cocking his head to look at the woman with suspicion. "Yes?"

She smiled, but it was predatory and he felt a shudder go up his spine. "You're a difficult man to find."

"I'm right here," he said with a shrug.

"My name is Rita. Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Remus glanced at his watch. He had an hour until he was to meet Diggle—plenty of time to get home and change clothes... "What about?"

"You were good friends with James and Lily Potter?"

Shock and fear went straight through him, making him numb and oblivious to the cold and the rain and the few people who were walking around them. He straightened to his full height and looked down at her, demanding, "Who are you?"

"My name is Rita —"

"I got that. Who do you work for?"

"I'm not an Auror, if that's what you're afraid of, Mr Lupin. I suppose you've had enough of Aurors to last you for a while."

He turned neatly on his heel and started walking away from her, in the opposite direction to his flat. He could always double back. Right now, he had no other desire than to get away from this woman.

She trotted to keep up with his long strides. "I work for _The Daily Prophet._"

"Oh, gods, a newspaper," he muttered.

"There have been many stories about James and Lily after Sirius Black led He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to them. I thought you might appreciate the opportunity to tell your side of the story."

"You want to hear more about Sirius, is what you mean," Remus snarled.

"Well, of course, we _all_ do. We all want to know why he would betray his best friends —"

"Why don't you go to Azkaban and fucking ask him, then?"

"I have my name on the visitor's list —"

Remus halted in his tracks and turned to face her, unable to believe what she was saying.

"—but I'm not a relative or close friend of Mr Black's. I don't think I'm going to be able to get the proper clearances —"

"Don't expect me to help you get them," he said, starting to turn away again.

"I wasn't asking for you to help me," she said fiercely, grabbing his sleeve again. "What I want is to hear your side of things: about your friendship with the Potters and Black and Pettigrew, about your arrest and your interrogation —"

Remus snatched his arm from her grip. "I have nothing to say to you."

"But, Mr Lupin, think of what this could do for you!"

He shook his head and started to walk again. What could exploiting his relationship with James and Lily and Peter do for him? How could it possibly explain the evil that was Sirius Black?

"It might gain you some sympathy. It might get the Aurors off your back—"

He couldn't help it. He swung back around. "I'm not looking for any bloody damned sympathy! And the Aurors are getting their bloody rocks off following me and waiting for me to slip and make some kind of mistake! You want a story? There isn't one here!"

He turned quickly, not watching what he was doing and ran into a man and woman right behind him.

"Hey!" The big man shoved Remus in the shoulder, pushing him back a step or two.

"Sorry—" Remus began, holding his hands up in front of himself to fend off the other man.

Rita pressed up against him. "This won't go away, Mr Lupin. People want to know what happened, and you're the only one who knows—"

Remus didn't wait to hear any more. While the other man's attention was centred on Rita and what she was saying, Remus ducked around him and took off at a run.

* * *

He went straight to the Leaky Cauldron and drank a glass of Firewhiskey to calm his shaking hands. By the time Diggle arrived, Remus had convinced himself that there had been no harm done. After all, he hadn't said anything—well, he hadn't said _much_—and he highly doubted anyone could make an entire newspaper article out of the bit that he had said.

He was wrong. Very, very wrong. The next morning had shown him exactly how wrong he was.

* * *

He sat at the table in his kitchen, head in his hands, a Firewhiskey next to his right elbow.

After Voldemort's demise, the papers were full of stories about Sirius and his capture and nearly everything he'd done since he was born. People who had never met Sirius were consulted about how his family and upbringing had affected his mental state.

And then, the Aurors started arresting and bringing in those who were believed to be Death Eaters. The newspapers discussed each person, what they were accused of doing, and then decided their guilt or innocence before the Wizengamot had the chance.

The trials were still going on, but there were fewer of them each day than there had been in mid-November.

Now, with things slowing down, the papers needed to find something else to dwell upon, some new angle to Voldemort's defeat and the Potters' deaths and Sirius' betrayal.

And Remus was the new angle, according to one Rita Skeeter.

"_Remus Lupin finds it difficult to speak about James and Lily Potter. His expressive blue eyes fill with tears as he cries, 'No! I have nothing to say!' Obviously distressed, he turns away from this reporter. But is his protestation because of grief? Or is it guilt? _

"_There are very few people who don't wonder what went wrong in the strong friendship between one James Potter and one Sirius Black. Their friendship seemed to transcend explanation. Black was Potter's best man and the godfather of his child. But that nearly fraternal relationship was shattered, sacrificed on the altar of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Was it Black's family legacy and his upbringing that brought Potter and his bride to their deaths? _

"_And what about the brave Peter Pettigrew? He chose to stand defiantly against a man who was already known to have betrayed one friend—and lost his life. How could he hope to stand against such evil as Sirius Black? _

"_Remus Lupin was a close friend of Potter's and Black's and Pettigrew's. He was there as their friendship grew at Hogwarts. He remained close to them after they left school. He was part of their circle, their little clique that they named 'The Marauders'. How much did he know about what Black planned?_

"_On the day of Black's capture, Lupin was also taken by the Aurors for questioning. What transpired during the next three days has been classified as 'Confidential', and no public record exists. One source did verify that Lupin was administered a large amount of Veritaserum and that other simple but effective interrogation techniques were applied. After those three days, Lupin was released. A copy of a pardon was procured from the Ministry (see photograph below) that states that Remus J. Lupin is not to be considered in any way an accessory or accomplice to Sirius Black in the crimes of murder or treason that Black committed._

"_However, since then, by Lupin's own admittance, Aurors continue to follow him. "They get their rocks off following me," he says slyly. "They follow me around, hoping that I'll make a mistake." There is a challenging look in his eyes as he says this, as if he is daring them to catch him doing something wrong. Why do the Aurors still follow him, if he's received a pardon from the Wizengamot? What exactly do the Aurors think they can catch Lupin doing? If he was not an accomplice to Sirius Black, whose accomplice was he? _

"_His reply? 'Why don't you go to Azkaban and ask Sirius Black?'_

"_It seems as if Mr Lupin may hold the key to unlock the secrets of the Potter-Black friendship. We can only hope it's not because he was in league with the infamous, nefarious murderer who killed his best friend and his wife, leaving their son orphaned and alone."_

"Fuck," he whispered.

How could he defend himself against allegations that really weren't allegations?

"Why in the hell did you talk to this Skeeter woman?" Moody demanded. He'd arrived an hour ago with _The Daily Prophet_ in hand, banging and yelling almost incoherently at the door until Remus had let him in.

"I didn't!" Remus protested, briefly lowering a hand so he could glare at the Auror properly. "She grabbed my arm and told me she wanted to talk about Sirius and James and Lily. I told her to fuck off—nicely—and she kept going on about how people wanted to know what had happened... So I ran."

"Did you say the things in this article?"

Remus squirmed a little. "I think I did. It happened all so fast, though. I certainly didn't say or use those comments in the context that she presents them."

"Well, I'm going to get back to the Ministry and start threatening everybody not to tell this woman anything about you. You'll be lucky if she doesn't find out you're a werewolf..."

Remus groaned.

"So, for Merlin's sake, Lupin, lay low. Don't even poke your head out the door."

"How in the hell did she figure out where I lived, though?"

"Any information can be got for the right price. She could have even seen you and followed you. That's why you need to be very, very careful about where you go during the next couple of days."

Remus suddenly sucked in a sharp breath. "The moon—"

"What about it?"

"It's full tomorrow."

Moody swore, rather creatively, and then sat back. "Where were you going?"

"Back to the Ministry," Remus said quietly but firmly.

"You almost killed yourself there last month."

"It was going to happen no matter where I was," Remus pointed out. "At least they can heal me in the morning. If someone hadn't been there to stop the bleeding, I'd have died."

"Well, we'll have to sneak you into the Ministry somehow, then. I'll work something out and let you know. "

Remus nodded. "Okay."

Moody again shook his head as he got to his feet. "That damned Skeeter woman. Causes more trouble than she's worth." His sudden chuckle both startled and alarmed Remus. "Have to admit, though: she's good."

"Gods, Moody, don't —"

"If I hadn't been part of your interrogation, I'd sure as hell be wondering about you right now."

Remus didn't find that amusing. At all.

**Thanks for the reviews! I know I haven't replied to all of them yet, and I truly apologise! I do appreciate them, though!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter and any characters you might recognise here are solely the property of JKRowling and her minions. I am only borrowing them for entertainment. **

**Thanks to Bad Mum and remuslives23 for their talent, skills, and support!**

**Many apologies: So many of you have reviewed, and I haven't responded. Real life has caught up to me and it's been vicious! Thank you so much, though--and know that I do appreciate every kind word! **

The days of the full moon were always difficult. He had recognised that his emotional and mental state directly affected how he felt on the days of his transformations. More often than not, Remus would have absolutely no energy and sleep through the day, unwilling to lift his head from the pillow unless necessary. Sometimes, when he was stressed or angry, he was full of relentless frenetic energy that poked and prodded him from within. It was if something was crawling beneath his skin, making him itch and burn and squirm until he wanted to chew his skin off with his human teeth.

This was one of the restless days. He paced through the flat several times, unable to sit down or relax. Finally, he decided to disregard Moody's instructions and go for a walk to the corner shop and get a few things. What harm could it do?

Halfway there, he was confronted by a man in a long wool coat who had been standing in front of a shop window, looking at the merchandise within. "Mr Lupin, I presume?"

Remus, reminded strongly of the day before, cocked his head to the side and asked, "Who wants to know?"

"So you are Lupin, then?"

There was a sudden burst of light and a popping noise and Remus turned to see a man with a camera—just as the shutter clicked again.

"What in the hell is this?" Remus demanded, holding his hand up to block the photographer's next shot.

"I'm Sterling Halliwell, from _The Wizarding Gazette —"_

Remus felt his breath freeze in his lungs.

"—I was hoping for a minute of your time—"

"I've got nothing to say," Remus said. He turned, intending to head back to his house. The camera flashed, and realisation set in: he couldn't go home or they'd find exactly where he lived—if they didn't know already.

"How did you feel when you first heard of the Potters' deaths, Mr Lupin?"

"Shit!" Remus whispered. He looked around wildly, unable to think quickly enough about where to go and how to get away.

"What was that, Mr Lupin?"

The world was closing tightly around him, and he couldn't breathe. Even worse, he could feel the wolf's presence pacing inside his mind, reacting to his feeling of entrapment. He had to escape before something terrible happened...

"Mr Lupin, what was your reaction to hearing that Sirius Black had killed Peter Pettigrew?"

The light flashed again, and Remus blinked.

"Did you know that Sirius Black was a Death Eater? After all, you were _very_ good friends, they say."

The reporter was to his right, the cameraman to his left. The shops were right in front of him, and behind him—

_Spells flying past them, Death Eaters slowly surrounding them._

"_There!" Sirius screamed, pointing..._

"_Run, Moony!" _

The words exploded in his head, as if James were still right beside him.

He almost always did what James told him to do, so he turned and darted out into the street. There was a blaring of horns, and his mind registered something large, blue, and metallic just as it descended upon him. He felt the impact along his left side and then there was just the sense of things tumbling over each other, like the world had been tipped over...

* * *

"_Can he hear us?"_

"_I don't know. Remus?"_

"_Don't shake him, you git! You'll hurt him worse!"_

"Sir?"

"_How can he do this, month after month? We have to do something to help—"_

"Sir!"

He opened his eyes, then immediately recoiled at the closeness of the round face above him. His movement made his head thump madly and pain shot up through his left arm. He groaned, recognising the feel of a broken bone. A glance at his arm showed him that it had been splinted crudely, but with skill.

"There you are then," the woman said. "Wondered when you'd be waking up. Took a nasty bump on the head, though."

Remus turned his head gently from one side to the other, taking in his surroundings. "Where am I?"

"St. Bart's. They brought you in —"

Remus didn't hear the details of how and when they'd brought him in. The only thing he could think of was that he was in a Muggle hospital and this was the day of the full moon.

"What time is it?" he asked, interrupting the woman's flow of words.

"What? Oh. It's just on one now."

_Oh, gods. Moonrise is at what time? Can't think. Can't remember..._

"The doctor will be here in a bit to set that bone in your arm —"

"When can I leave?" Remus asked, trying not to let his anxiety overwhelm him so that he couldn't think straight.

"Oh, you'll be here the night," the nurse said.

"I can't!" Remus gasped.

The nurse's eyebrows rose and then she smiled. "Date tonight?"

"You could say that," Remus muttered. _Shit! What do I do now? How do I get out of here?_

"Sorry, dearie. She's going to have to pick another night," the woman went on, smiling genially. "Now, I'm going to be right on the other side of the curtain there, getting some things together. If you need me, just give me a whistle. I'm Nurse Randall."

Remus waited until the nurse slid the blue curtain closed and then slowly looked around, trying to find something that might suggest a way out of his predicament. The wall behind him was plaster; there would be no way through that. The other three 'walls' were blue curtains on metal rods. To his left, he could hear a woman sobbing softly with pain. To his right, he could hear some kind of rhythmic, mechanical beeping.

If only his head would stop hurting. Where in the hell were healing potions when you needed them? He rubbed his temples worriedly with his right hand.

His arm was broken, said the nurse. Did he have any other broken bones? He carefully moved one leg and then the other. They seemed to be fine. Achy, stiff, and obviously bruised, but not broken. He could walk out of here if he were only given half the chance, then. Considering he'd been hit by a car, he reckoned he'd got off lightly.

He lifted the sheet to get a good look at himself, thinking it might be a good thing to see just where the bruises were. It was then that he discovered that he was nearly naked, dressed only in his underwear and a worn hospital gown.

_Where are my clothes? Where are my jeans and my shoes and my jacket?_

And then... an even more frightening realisation: _Where's my wand?_

The sudden thought made him gasp and he started to sit up. His chest was suddenly gripped in a vice-like grip of pain, squeezing all air from his lungs and he fell back onto the bed.

_Oh, fuck. Can't move. Can't breathe. Can't think..._

The panic was starting to overwhelm him, and he couldn't help taking quick, panting breaths, which did nothing to help the pounding of his heart and the thumping in his head.

"_Don't move, Moony!"_

"_Prongs? Hurts—"_

"_Shhh. I know it does. Don't try to talk!"_

"_Oh, gods..."_

"_Padfoot, how much time do we have?"_

"_She should be coming at any minute."_

"_Prongs, why —"_

"_Remus, stay still! There's so much fucking blood—"_

"_Shut up, you prat! Moony, listen, you've ripped yourself open here, and it's pretty bad. Stay calm, you hear? Pomfrey will be here soon, but you have to relax and take it easy, alright?" _

Always the first step. Relax. Concentrate on taking one breath at a time.

Several minutes passed as Remus finally managed to bring the pain down to a manageable level. Maybe he could get the Muggles to give him some kind of pain medication. That would help with the problem of hurting too much to move and think.

"Nurse Randall?" Of course, the problem with broken ribs was that you couldn't take a deep enough breath to project your voice beyond a normal speaking tone—well, not comfortably. But the ends would justify the means, so Remus allowed himself to feel that stab of pain to get the nurse's attention.

The round face peeked in around the edge of the curtain. "Yes, Mr Lupin?"

"Do you have anything for the pain?"

"Um, I'll have to check with the doctor first. He'll be here any minute, though."

"What about my things? My jacket and my —" he stopped himself just in time, "—and the rest?"

"Oh. Couldn't do much about your shirt or your jacket. Had to cut them off your arm. But what's left of them and everything else is in a bag there beside your bed."

He had to twist awkwardly to get a glance over the edge of the bed without his broken ribs screaming at him, but he saw the bag and found himself hopeful that his wand was still in the pocket of his coat.

"Thanks," he muttered, hoping Nurse Randall would take it as the dismissal he meant it to be.

"No trouble," the woman said with another smile. She disappeared again.

Remus waited a moment and then whispered, "_Accio_ wand."

It flew right through the side of the bag and into his waiting hand, and he heaved a sigh of relief. It was probably an unwise decision, because it brought the pain back, but he didn't feel nearly as panicked as he had before.

_I could Apparate straight to my flat and get dressed there._

It would be difficult to do it with one hand, but it could be done.

_I don't have any pain potions at home._

He'd used the last one the day before on his hangover.

_Moody is supposed to find a place for me to transform._

Moody was going to have a bloody fit when he found out Remus had left his flat.

Before Remus could act, the curtain slid back and a silver-haired man in the traditional long, white coat of a Muggle doctor strolled in, his eyes firmly fixed on some papers on a clipboard in front of him. "Trying to wrestle with a lorry, were you?"

"I guess you could say that," Remus said, easing his wand into the folds of the blanket so the doctor couldn't see it. "Can I ask how long this is going to take?"

The doctor didn't even look at him. "It takes as long as it takes, Mr—Lupin. Is that right?"

"Yes, sir."

"That's what the people at the accident scene told the ambulance drivers, but you never know." He lowered the clipboard and his brown eyes pinned Remus in place. "Why did you run out into the path of that lorry, Mr Lupin?"

Remus would have loved to have taken a deep, sustaining breath, but knew it would hurt too badly. "It's a long story."

"You weren't trying to deliberately hurt yourself, were you?"

It took Remus a moment to puzzle out what the man meant. "No! No, I wasn't trying to kill myself. I was trying to get away from someone—from a reporter, actually."

"A reporter?" The doctor's eyebrow rose. "Parasitic bastards. I've had a run-in or two with them myself. What did you do to warrant that dubious honour?"

"I know a murderer." Merlin. He had said it. Out loud. He had called Sirius a murderer. A sharp pain stabbed into his heart, but he didn't have time to consider it more fully. He had to get out of here, and the doctor was already continuing.

"Do you, now? Interesting. Maybe you can tell me about it later. Right now, though, we need to administer a nerve block so I can set that arm."

Remus let his fingers slide into their accustomed positions on his wand. "Look, doctor, I have an important commitment tonight. Is there any way I could leave right after you set this arm of mine? Or could I just have my own Heal--, uh, doctor look at it?"

The man looked horrified at the latter suggestion. "I can't let you just walk out of here with a broken arm like that! And I'm sure whatever the commitment is, your absence can be overlooked considering the circumstances."

Remus sighed. He'd tried. "I suppose..." Then with one fluid movement, he pulled the wand from its nest in the blanket and flicked it purposefully in the doctor's direction. "_Obliviate_."

The doctor's eyes went blank, and his jaw dropped slackly.

"Sorry," Remus apologised. "But you have patients to take care of, and I need to get out of here. Go on to your next patient. Tell the nurse to check on me. Then just forget I was ever here."

"Yes, yes," the physician replied vaguely. "Next patient. Tell the nurse..." Still mumbling under his breath, he pushed back through the curtain.

Remus carefully swivelled his legs around until they hung over the side of the bed. He spent a moment while the stabbing pain subsided convincing himself he could follow through with his hasty plan, and then a moment more telling himself he had no choice.

Nurse Randall pushed through the curtains. She looked unhappy and confused. Remus hoped it was only because she was finding the doctor's behaviour a bit unusual. "The doctor wanted me to come in here and check on you. Is there a problem, Mr Lupin?"

Remus didn't have the time to make up anything or hope she'd believe whatever lies he needed to tell. He raised his wand. "I am really sorry about this," he said and then whispered again, "_Obliviate_."

* * *

Remus Apparated straight into the bedroom of his flat. He threw the bag onto his bed and an anxious glance at the clock. He had a little over three hours until the sun would set—and the moon would rise. He rushed to check to see if Moody had been there and left a note, but couldn't find anything.

He was running out of time and he had to do something. Thanks to the _Obliviate _and repeated suggestions that the doctor was allowing him to leave, the nurse had helped him into his jeans and shoes, though his shirt was ruined beyond hope. Debating his next move, Remus grabbed a button-down shirt, shoving his good arm through the sleeve of it, holding his splinted arm to his chest and letting the other sleeve dangle free.

Snarling inwardly at himself for his stupidity and at the idiocy of reporters and Aurors, he quickly gathered up some clothes and a few toiletries and tossed them in the bag he'd brought from the hospital. He could only think of one place to go now.


End file.
